


Freelance Good Guys: Five Lessons (Plus Another)

by TheGreys (alienjpeg)



Series: Freelance Good Guys [7]
Category: Freelance Good Guys, Looming Gaia
Genre: Adventure, Blood and Violence, Centaurs, Fauns & Satyrs, Fluff and Humor, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 12:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienjpeg/pseuds/TheGreys
Summary: A thieving wolf is terrorizing the people of Drifter’s Hollow. The Freelance Good Guys find themselves incompetently chasing the beast all over the forest as they try to teach Isaac valuable lessons. Deep in the woods, Isaac stumbles upon some arcane knowledge that no one expected…





	1. Be Good

**Author's Note:**

> This story can be read on its own, but it is part of the Freelance Good Guys series and I recommend that you at least read "Trial of Titans" first.
> 
> For concept art and worldbuilding stuff, check out the Looming Gaia blog: http://mythicalshoes.tumblr.com/post/165447246045/looming-gaia-lore-masterpost

##  **[LESSON 1: BE GOOD]**

 

     _AUTUMN, 6000_

 

     The wolf snarled, jagged teeth but a white flash in the shadows of the forest. Evan could see bloody patches on its leg, spaces where it had tried to gnaw itself out of the trap. But its foot was caught tight in these iron jaws, and clever human hands were the only thing that could set it free.

 

     The trap was not Evan’s. He had nothing to do with this mess. He was only taking Isaac for a walk in the woods, intended to teach him about wilderness survival when they stumbled upon this sad, gruesome sight. The wolf was massive, typical of its kind here on the eastern coast of Noalen. Two hundred pounds at least, with a shaggy coat of rust-red fur.

 

     And now two humans were frozen before it, locking eyes as it growled and pulled at the trap. The device was chained to a tree trunk. The wolf would either starve here or chew off its leg and bleed out somewhere else. The whole scene made Evan sick to his stomach, made ancient memories bubble up like bile in his soul.

 

     Isaac cowered behind Evan, just a boy of ten years old. A mere morsel to a predator like this. It was big, but Evan was bigger—and as a lycanthrope, he supposed he had some kind of kinship with this beast. It would be best to mind their own business, to turn around and go back to the little camp they were calling home right now.

 

     But Evan couldn’t. His guilt, his pride, his sense of duty couldn’t leave well enough alone, and he found himself stepping towards the snarling wolf. Isaac’s wide eyes watched in horror. He hissed through his teeth, “Evan, don’t! What are you doing?”

 

     The man wasn’t clanking about in steel armor on this little venture, just wore a shortsword at his hip and light leather plates on his chest and arms.

 

     Evan kneeled before the wolf and rammed one leather-plated forearm in its snapping maw. The beast bit down like a vice as Isaac cried out in horror, “It’s gonna eat you!”

 

“I’m fine, Isaac,” Evan grunted, throwing his leg around the animal’s neck. Isaac shielded his eyes from the dirt and pine needles that sprayed up in the struggle.

 

     Man and beast wrestled to the ground. Soon Evan had the creature pinned beneath him, pushing its head against the dirt while its growls rumbled through gnashed teeth. Jutting his chin behind him, Evan told the boy, “There’s a black pin on the trap. Pull it, quickly!”

 

     Isaac wrung his hands anxiously, eyes darting between the trap and the beast. “But—”

“That’s an _order_ , Isaac!” urged Evan. The wolf was starting to wriggle out of his grip. Isaac stumbled forth, dropped to his knees beside the trap.

 

     He saw it, the little black pin, and his skinny arms trembled as he tried to pull it from its rusted hinge. He fell on his back as it did, and an instant later Evan was rising off the wolf. He grasped the scruff of its neck with both hands and dragged it several feet away. The animal tossed about in his grip until he sent it rolling across the ground with a mighty heave.

 

     Evan drew the shortsword from his hip, waved his opposite hand towards the forest. “Go on now! You’ll live to see another day!” he called. “And watch your step, Beast!”

Isaac sat just behind him, quivering with fear. The wolf staggered back to its feet—only three of them, bloody hind leg hovering above the ground.

 

     It locked eyes with them once more, first eyeing Isaac and then Evan. Considering the risk. But even this dumb animal knew that in its exhaustion, in all its pain, it was in no position to take a bite out of either of them. So the wolf turned, and in a flash it was but a rustle in the undergrowth.

 

     A long sigh gusted through Isaac’s nose. He rose up, brushed the dirt from his clothes as he exclaimed, “That was scary, Evan! Why did you do that?”

And the man sheathed his sword, certain the threat was gone when he replied, “No creature deserves to suffer. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

 

     “But it’s a monster!” argued Isaac. Evan pointed a finger at him, tone dropping low.

“A wolf is a _beast_ ,” he replied, “not a monster. A beast is not good nor evil, Isaac. It only does what it must to survive. They are closest to the Spirit of Gaia, you know. Even closer than the peoples like you and I. We must respect them as we respect any man.”

 

     Isaac dug his toe into the dirt. “That’s dumb. It was mean! It could have hurt you,” he grumbled. Evan’s lips quirked into a tiny smile.

The man replied, “Sometimes we’re at our worst when we’re in pain. But that’s when we need help the most, isn’t it?” He extended a hand and Isaac took it with a sigh. The two continued down the forest trail.

 

     “We help those who need it, whether they reward us with gold or teeth,” Evan told him. “That’s what it means to be good.”

 

*

 

     Evan and Isaac returned to their camp just before sunset. There was a village here that the locals called “Drifter’s Hollow”, a place that wasn’t found on any map. It was a secret place deep in the wilderness, lying somewhere south of Frostbite Crag where only the foolish dared to tread.

 

     The Freelance Good Guys were just such fools, and so they stumbled upon Drifter’s Hollow while searching for a free plot of land. Perhaps they could have divided the hefty sum of gold left to them by Isaac’s mother, took their fortunes and went their separate ways.

 

     But after much deliberation, the crew decided to invest the gold back into their business. A permanent headquarters was the first step, though they couldn’t build it alone. That’s where the locals of Drifter’s Hollow came in.

 

     They were primarily gaian—satyrs, centaurs, minotaurs—misfit villagers with more braun than brains. For the right price, they were happy to haul stones and logs all day long while the mercenaries planned their next course of action. Soon they would have a lovely roof to cover them all, but for now they were freezing in their pathetic little tents, two mercs crammed into each.

 

     Darkness fell over the forest and the laborers disappeared with the sun. They collected their pay from Evan before heading down the trail into their village. Drifter’s Hollow was barely a ten-minute walk from here, a place to restock on food and booze when the mercs ran low.

 

     Evan walked around the perimeter, admired the cobblestone foundation of the boarding house. After that, perhaps they would start a farm and be self-sufficient. From there the possibilities were endless…If only they had enough people to make it happen. They had to be cautious, had to scrutinize potential crewmates with care, because not everyone was racing to work alongside a lycanthrope.

 

     Evan knew well what people thought of his kind, especially here in Noalen. Not even Isaac knew what he really was. Not yet. The boy had only joined their company two months ago and his future was still uncertain. His mother had not come to claim him, nor had anyone else.

 

     The six mercenaries gathered around the fire pit—Evan, Lukas, Glenvar, Alaine, Jeimos, and Isaac—as they did every night for dinner. Jeimos lit the kindling with their magical flames while Glenvar set up the cooking pot. In the pot they tossed whatever they had gathered today, whether it was onions, mushrooms, berries, or leeks.

 

     Upon sticks they roasted fat locusts and rodent meat. This temperate forest was bountiful and it would always provide, so long as they didn’t become greedy. Flora made that very clear when they arrived, for the villagers looked to her as some sort of authority. She had been here longer than any of them, had ruled this piece of the forest for centuries.

 

     Flora was a limniad, a type of nymph born from plants. Despite her age she appeared as a fit and youthful woman, elfish in structure. But she was no elf, with her green skin and her long peony-pink hair from which white daisies sprouted. She walked the forest bared and armed only with magic, for the animals simply regarded her as they regarded the flowers.

 

     She spied on the mercenaries from the shadows of the forest, watched carefully their every move. Most of them were commoners and commoners were infamous for their destruction of the land. But as she watched she grew bored, as these commoners did nothing of the sort.

 

     Any waste was buried to nourish the soil. Any firewood gathered was dead to begin with, and when they bathed and washed their clothes in the stream, they did so without poisonous chemicals. Flora’s flora was left unharmed, and so she left the mercenaries unharmed too.

 

     The fire burned down to its last flickering cinders. Finally, the mercenaries retired to their tents. Evan and Lukas shared one, Glenvar and Alaine to another. The third housed Jeimos and Isaac tonight, though sometimes the group rotated. Some were guilty of snoring louder than others, of kicking and flailing in their sleep. As they settled into their bedrolls, Isaac whispered, “Jeimos. Jeimos!”

 

     “What, Izzy?” the elf yawned.

And the boy asked them, “How does a baby centaur eat?”

“What do you mean?”

“The centaurs,” Isaac explained, “they’re half horse and half person. So where does the baby get milk? From the horse or the person?”

 

     At this, Jeimos flipped over to face him. “Izzy,” they scolded, “that’s a dreadfully inappropriate question!”

Isaac crossed his arms, leaned back in his bedroll. “Fine, I’ll ask Olof,” he grumbled.

Jeimos was quick to reply, “You will _not_ ask Olof!”

“But he’s a centaur and he has a son, he would know!”

 

     Dragging a palm over their tired face, Jeimos let out a long sigh. They told him, “ _Please_ don’t pester the villagers. They already have little reason to trust us. It’s best to stay in their good graces until we get a foothold on this place. Do you understand?”

 

     The boy blinked. “No.”

Jeimos shook their head and turned their back to him, settling back into their pillow. “Just go to sleep,” they said. Isaac stared up into blackness. All he could hear was the symphony of singing frogs and crickets all around. That, and Glenvar’s snoring from the next tent over.

 

     Isaac had too many questions and the crew had too few answers. From the moment he opened his eyes in that sarcophagus, everything he saw was marvelous and new. He had lived some kind of life before that, he thought, but he couldn’t remember it now. Only tiny glimmers, bits and pieces teasing him in his dreams.

 

     His name was Isaac, he was ten years old, and the mercenaries found him in a mysterious tomb in the Serkel Desert. That was all he knew. It was up to the Freelance Good Guys to teach him all the valuable lessons he needed to survive in this marvelous new world.

 

     The boy closed his eyes and soon drifted off to sleep. His dreams were his comfort, more familiar to him than the waking world would ever be.

 


	2. Be Patient

##  **[LESSON 2: BE PATIENT]**

 

     “Excuse me? Mercenaries? We have a problem! Please, it’s urgent!” a voice was calling from outside the tent, high and feminine.

 

     Evan’s bleary eyes cracked open.

His mouth spoke before his brain caught up, said, “One moment, Miss!” as he scrambled to throw a shirt on. Lukas let out a groan when he sat up and stretched his back beside him.

 

     Outside, the other mercenaries were staggering out of their tents as well. Tall shadows spread from the trees as golden beams of light pierced through the canopy. It was 7AM at the latest. Evan slipped on his peg leg, quickly buttoned his pants as he stepped out to greet a red-headed satyress standing outside.

 

     She was short and plump, pale skin peppered with freckles. Two stubby horns sprouted from her forehead. Furry goat-legs with cloven hooves peeked out from the bottom of her simple cotton dress, hands wringing anxiously at her waist.

“Ah, Miss Ginger,” Evan greeted. “What can I do for you?”

 

     The satyr pushed her wild hair out of her eyes as she stammered, “Um, so sorry to bother you. I know it’s early. But my poor son is stuck at home, and I can’t let him outside until this matter is resolved. I don’t know that I can pay you for it, but the village—maybe they can—oh, I don’t know, I’m sorry…”

 

     She was getting flustered, combing her fingers through her hair. Evan led her to one of the stumps in the clearing, the other mercs surrounding her as she sat down. “Don’t think about gold now. Just tell us what you need first,” Evan said calmly. Ginger took a deep breath, pushed her anxiety away.

 

     “A wolf is loose in the Hollow,” she explained. “It was eating our chickens for weeks. We trapped it a couple days ago, but Brogan checked the trap this morning and it was gone! It was an enormous beast, Mr. Atlas, the biggest wolf I’ve ever seen! You must kill it before it kills one of our children!”

 

     The mercs had mixed reactions to the situation, some raring to go while others wondered if it was worth their time. Either way, it wasn’t their decision to make. They looked to their captain for an answer, but Evan just stood there in silence while his face flushed pinker by the second.

 

     “Er, I see…” he began, raking a hand over his head to the back of his neck. The shame burned like fire. So he’d made a terrible mistake, but no one had to know that!

 

     Not unless Isaac opened his mouth, and sure enough he chimed, “Hey, that sounds like the wolf we saw yesterday when—”

“Isaac, hush! The adults are speaking!” Evan interrupted. He turned back to Ginger and told her, “Fear not, Miss. Lukas here will make short work of that wolf.”

 

     Lukas whipped his head towards the captain. “Me? Why me?” Evan’s hand came down heavy on his shoulder.

“Because there is no finer archer on this crew! I believe in you, my friend. Now don your quiver and take this job for me, will you?”

 

     The archer rolled his eyes and began trudging back to his tent. “Uuuugh…”

“And take the boy along.”

“ _Uuuugh_!”

 

*

 

     Lukas perched himself high in a tree, reclining between branches with his bow, quiver, and a leatherbound sketchpad. He smeared lines of charcoal across the paper as Isaac dangled from a branch just above. The boy hooked his legs around a limb and hung upside-down. One wrong move and the fall would be fatal.

 

     A slab of meat lie on the forest floor below them. Flies were beginning to gather upon it. “We’ve been here for a _thousand_ _hours_ ,” groaned Isaac. “Can we go now?”

Lukas plucked the watch from his vest pocket, gave it a glance. “It’s been forty minutes, Isaac,” he said flatly. The boy grasped the branch and flipped backwards, landing precariously on the branch below.

 

     He wobbled as he made his way towards Lukas and plopped down beside him. “But I’m hungry, Lukas!”

“Then eat your sandwich.”

“I already did! And I have to pee!”

“I told you to go before we got up here!”

“I didn’t have to go then, but I do now!”

 

     Lukas tossed his head back against the trunk, let out a harsh sigh. “You’ll just have to hold it until the wolf shows up."

Isaac crossed his legs, queried, “What if the wolf never shows up? We’ll be sitting up here ‘til we’re skeletons!”

“Then you won’t have to piss anymore, will you? Now shut up or you’ll scare the beast.”

 

     Isaac settled back with a frown, fixed his eyes on the pink flash of beef below. They weren’t too far from Drifter’s Hollow. If the wolf was skulking about in search of livestock, it would surely cross this easier meal first. That’s when Lukas would strike, pierce it right between the eyes. Then the crew would finally start making their money back, the fortune which they poured into their new headquarters.

 

     Birdsong chimed over the canopy. Every scratch of Lukas’ charcoal against paper seemed deafening in this serene place. Isaac kicked his feet and swung across branches until boredom consumed him. After two hours he could stay silent no longer. “This is soooo boring,” he whispered. “The wolf will never find us. So let’s go find the wolf already!”

 

     The archer shook his head and told him, “I told you we might be here all day. Let this be your lesson in patience, Isaac. Why chase our prey around when we can just relax and lure it in?”

“Because it’s boring?”

Lukas rolled his eyes. “Embrace it. Once you see your life flash before your eyes a couple times, you’ll treasure this boredom.”

 

     Inching his way along a skinny branch, Isaac peeked over at Lukas’ sketchpad. “What’cha drawing?” he queried.

Lukas hunched over the pad and grumbled, “I thought you were the lookout. Your eyes should be on the ground, not on me.”

“Looks like a person...” Isaac tilted his head, peered through the gap above Lukas’ elbow. “…With pointy ears. Are you drawing Jeimos?”

 

     “No! Mind your own business!” The archer nearly lost his balance as he slammed the book closed.

“It was an elf. Jeimos is an elf.”

“It was _not_ Jeimos, you little puke!”

“If you say so.” Isaac shrugged and swung his body forward, landing on a branch ahead.

 

     The bark came loose beneath his boot. With a sharp crackle and a shriek, Isaac slipped and went tumbling down. He closed his eyes tight, expecting a terrible impact. But there he dangled, suspended in the air by the seat of his pants. He cracked an eye open and craned his neck, saw Lukas above.

 

     The archer held him by his crude rope belt. He stared down at the boy with big round eyes, arm trembling under his weight. His other arm arrived soon and with a loud grunt, he heaved Isaac back onto the branch. The boy wrapped his arms around the trunk, hugged it tight like an opossum to its mother.

 

     “Damn it, Boy,” Lukas sighed heavily, palming the sweat from his face. “Evan would have _killed_ me. Why are you playing acrobat thirty feet in the air anyway? Don’t you have any sense?”

 

     “But you do it all the time!” argued Isaac.

Lukas growled, “Because I _am_ an acrobat, Isaac! You’re a child, you’re a pest—you’re _nothing_! You can’t even keep your mouth shut but for a minute, so what good will you be to the crew?”

 

     A silence passed between them, heavy as stone. Isaac lie there, limp and pathetic with tears welling up in his eyes. A short sigh gusted through Lukas’ nostrils. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Don’t start crying on me, okay? I get it. That was harsh. I’m…” He paused, as if the words were caught in his throat. “I’m _sorry_. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just, when you fell I got…I was, uh...”

 

     The boy wiped his tears on his sleeve and sniffled, “Shut up.”

Lukas recoiled, quirked an eyebrow. “Excuse you? I’m spilling my heart here, you brat!”

Pointing beyond the archer, Isaac clarified, “No, shut up or you’ll scare the wolf away.”

 

     Confusion crossed Lukas’ face for just a brief moment, until he turned around and saw it—the hulking red wolf creeping through the brush below. It was following its nose to the clearing, surely catching the scent of the rancid beef. Lukas quietly picked up his bow, pulled an arrow from his quiver and nocked it.

 

     Isaac held his breath as he watched Lukas take aim. The wolf came to a stop, sniffing at the meat. He had a clear shot, accounted for the breeze when he aimed the iron tip of the arrow just left of its eye. The archer’s breathing slowed, even and steady. Then he let his arrow fly.

 

     It whizzed through the air. In that instant, a fly landed on the wolf’s ear. The beast shook it away, then leaped backwards with a yelp as the arrow pierced the meat before it. It all happened so quickly, by the time Lukas uttered a curse under his breath, the wolf had snagged the meat and scurried back into the forest.

 

     The archer tossed his bow to the ground and slapped his gloved palms to his face. A long, miserable groan rumbled out of him. Isaac tried to console him, patted his shoulder and said, “Well, you _almost_ got him.”

 

     “ _Almost_ doesn’t cut it,” growled Lukas. He wrenched the quiver off his shoulder and tossed that to the ground too, along with the sketchpad and charcoal. “Sometimes you can do everything right and it doesn’t matter. You can do your best and it just isn’t good enough. We did our best and we failed.”

 

     With that, he slung his legs over the branch and began climbing down the tree. “I quit. I’m passing this one to Glen, he loves killing stuff. Happy now, Isaac?”

 

     “No…” The boy frowned, still sitting in the tree.

Lukas reached the bottom, planted his hands on his hips and queried, “No? I thought you had to pee.”

“I did,” admitted Isaac. “I don’t anymore.”

 


	3. Be Fearless

##  **[LESSON 3: BE FEARLESS]**

 

     “Luke’s a gutless teat-suckler,” said Glenvar. “A real _maska_ doesn’t hide up in a tree, catchin’ his foe unawares. He fights the bastard face to face, and if he dies, he dies with honor!”

 

     Isaac walked beside him down the forest trail, hands trembling at his sides. The boy stammered, “W-we’re not gonna die, are we?”

 

     Glenvar just let out a hearty laugh. He was clad in his full suit of armor with all its iron plates and spikes. While his beloved axe was lost to the Trial of Titans months ago, he had since replaced it with the heavy iron warhammer in his grip.

 

     They saw big paw prints in the dirt, crossing the trail to the right. This matched the direction Isaac saw the wolf run to with the meat, so they followed the broken twigs and bent grasses deeper into the woods. Isaac felt the hair on his neck suddenly stand on end, wondered if Glenvar felt the same as they approached a natural tower of stones.

 

     The stones were green with moss and flowering plantlife. They formed a cave, the entrance far too dark to see inside. The duo didn’t need to explore any further to know that whatever lived here was a threat. The dozens of bones strewn around the site told them enough.

 

     “Ah-ha! Tracked the mutt all the way back to his shanty!” exclaimed Glenvar. Isaac stayed behind, standing at the edge of the clearing while his yellow-haired friend approached the cave. Glenvar bashed the stone with his hammer, the shrill noise echoing down into the blackness.

 

     He hollered, “Get out here, ya big mongrel! Ya got a big, fat bounty on yer head!” He pounded again at the stone, once, twice, and a third time, shouting threats and obscenities all the while. Isaac looked down at the yellowed bones near his feet, nearly lost to a tangle of grass and vines.

 

     Lying among the bones were long, branching antlers. Isaac only knew of two creatures with antlers: deer and fauns. Fauns were people no larger than a human, but the deer of eastern Noalen were quarter-ton monstrosities of fat and muscle. Could the red wolf really bring such a creature down alone?

 

     Perhaps it wasn’t alone. Perhaps it would meet Glenvar with its pack in tow. Or perhaps it wasn’t a wolf at all—perhaps it was a towering grizzly bear that would charge from its cave with a mighty roar.

 

     As it turned out, it was _exactly_ that.

 

     Glenvar jumped back, eyes wide in shock as the bear lumbered into the clearing. It swung its head towards Isaac, glaring his way with beady black eyes. The boy’s legs quaked in his boots and if he hadn’t wet himself earlier, he surely would have now.

 

     But little Isaac was not a threat, at least compared to the loud, hairy man all covered in metal, so the bear turned its attention back to Glenvar.

 

     A roar ripped through the forest as the beast rose up on its hind legs. It raised its giant paws in the air, each toe tipped with a long black claw. It brought one down to swipe and Glenvar met it with a swing of his hammer. The bear was knocked off-balance, stumbled to the side as the man taunted, “Wanna toss fists with me, tough guy? Try it again, come on!”

 

     “Glen, that’s a _bear_!” Isaac wailed, cowering behind a tree trunk. “Are you crazy? Get out of there!” The animal took another swing at Glenvar. The man rolled out of reach, pushed himself back on his feet and delivered a harsh blow to its face. Blood sprayed from the bear’s jaw and it recoiled, pawing at its aching teeth.

 

     “Bear, huh?” Glenvar laughed. “Pff, a _teddy_ bear maybe! He ain’t tough! Eat me, Ted!” Bloody drool oozed from the creature’s maw as it roared, suddenly charged forward in a fit of rage. Glenvar raised his hammer but he just wasn’t quick enough.

     All 600 pounds of the beast went barreling over the man. It toppled him like a rolling stone. Isaac gnashed his teeth, clutching the tree bark under white knuckles. He wanted to run, probably should have, but his feet were frozen in place. The bear could have charged and carried him away with ease.

 

     Still it chose to bully Glenvar, slapping him to the ground just as he tried to get up. The hammer flew off out of reach and Glenvar spun before hitting the dirt. His horned helmet was nicked with claw marks. Had it not been there he most definitely would have lost half of his head.

 

     Glenvar rolled onto his back in a daze, saw a big brown shape approaching through the blur. He reached for his hammer. It wasn’t there. The bear towered above him on its hind legs once more, bellowed as it prepared to come down on him with all its weight behind its mighty claws.

 

     Armor or not, he’d be crushed to death. Glenvar called to Isaac, wherever he may be, “Toss me yer belt, Kiddo! Quick!” Then he rolled forward and threw all his weight behind a single kick, driving his boot into the bear’s knee.

 

     The beast staggered, wobbled, stumbled before it fell backwards with a great thump. Just as it rolled over, Glenvar jumped on its back as Isaac fumbled with the rope around his waist. The bear shook its hide, Glenvar clinging for dear life until Isaac finally got his belt loose and pitched it.

 

     Glenvar reached out, just barely caught it in one hand. He threw the middle over the bear’s face and predictably the animal snapped at it. A mistake, for Glenvar pulled the belt tight and tied it around the back of its neck.

 

     Now the belt was lodged in the bear’s jaws like a bridle, a handle for Glenvar to hold as he mocked the poor creature. “Look at ya now! Ain’t ya the ugliest damn pony I ever saw!” he whooped. The bear had enough. It could hardly close its jaws properly, so it finally admitted defeat.

 

     It reared up, bucked Glenvar off its back. It gave him one final swat with its paw before running off into the forest, branches snapping loudly in its wake.

 

     Despite his blood and bruises, Glenvar was all victorious laughter as he got up and brushed his gloved hands together. He swiped his hammer, fastened it to his back as Isaac crept back into the clearing.

 

     “Guess we got the wrong house, huh?” he grinned.

“Glen, why didn’t you run? It was like, a zillion times bigger than you!” wailed Isaac.

 

     Glenvar laughed again, rustled the boy’s curly black hair as he replied, “Yer givin’ this fat bastard too much credit, Squeaker. Ya really think me ‘n my stubby legs could outrun a _bear_?”

 

     “Listen,” he continued after a wheezing fit, fishing a cigarette from one of his armored pockets, “sometimes ya find yerself facin’ a real behemoth. The big guys who think they can just throw their size around and come out on top.” He struck a match on his gauntlet, lit the cigarette in his mouth.

 

     Isaac wrinkled his nose as the man took a drag and went on, “They expect the little guy to shake in their shadow, and it really makes ‘em sweat when we don’t! _Be fearless_. That’s what my Ma told me. Now I’m tellin’ you, Izzy.” He grinned, nudged the boy’s arm. “‘Cause you ain’t a hair taller than I am, and we stubby folk gotta watch out for eachother, right?”

 

     The grin was infectious, spreading to Isaac’s face too. White teeth flashed behind his lips as he replied, “I guess so…” The grin faded, gaze wandering to the forest. “Um, will the bear be okay?”

 

     Glenvar plucked the cigarette from his mouth, waved a dismissive hand and replied, “Oh yeah, he’ll chew through that old rope in no time. Actually, we should get movin’ before he does. Let’s get back to camp, roast up some bugs ‘n call it a day.”

 

     With that, he patted Isaac’s back and ushered him back down the trail from which they came. The boy’s pants were slipping down now and he was left waddling as he held them up. Blood was trickling from Glenvar’s nose, drying in his beard. His body was bruised and sore, one of his eyes swelling where he’d bashed it against a stray bone.

 

     Isaac turned to him and asked, “What about the wolf?”

“Screw the wolf,” Glenvar said flatly. “I’m done tanglin’ with wildlife fer the day. It’s Alaine’s problem now!”

 


	4. Be Persistent

##  **[LESSON 4: BE PERSISTENT]**

 

     Alaine turned off the beaten path, cutting a new trail with a freshly-sharpened machete. She was clad in her light armor of leather and dragon scales. Isaac followed her into the forest with no clue as to where they were going.

 

     But Alaine was a skilled tracker and she could follow the trail of clues straight to their prey. Some red hairs stuck to a tree trunk, a broken twig, a paw print, the stench of protein-rich dung—they guided her through the forest for the better part of an hour.

 

     “Maybe we don’t have fangs like a wolf or claws like a bear,” she explained to the boy. “But humans have something the beasts don’t, and that’s persistence.”

Isaac cocked his head. “Persimmons?”

 

     “ _Persistence_ ,” the mermaid repeated, chopping a stubborn branch with her machete. “A beast only chases their prey so far, then it gives up and goes home. You know, like Glen.”

 

     Isaac snickered and she continued, “Beasts are dumb. But humans are smart, so we can track our prey for days and days until they’re all worn out. That’s being persistent!”

 

     Isaac made a noise of understanding as he picked the cobwebs from his hair. He bumped into Alaine, nearly tripped over her when she suddenly crouched. She pressed two fingers to a paw print in the dirt. When she turned them over, they were stained red.

 

     “It must be wounded, and the blood is fresh,” she said quietly. She stood up and wiped her hand on her leather skirt. “I think it’s nearby. Be very quiet and stay ten paces behind me.”

 

     The boy nodded, kept a gap between them as they crept through the brush. They pushed through wall after wall of branches and ferns until Alaine froze. Isaac stopped too, held his breath and awaited orders. The mermaid peeked through some leaves—at what, the boy couldn’t tell.

 

     She was silent for a long moment, then she turned to Isaac with a big, gleeful smile. “Come look!” she whispered and curled her finger. Carefully, Isaac crept forward on his hands and knees. He cringed at every rustle of the leaves around him until he finally stopped beside Alaine.

 

     She pointed at a giant tree trunk ahead, the base split in twain. Nestled inside the burrow of roots was a red, whimpering mass of fur. Isaac squinted. It was not an animal. Rather, it was _three_ animals. A trio of red wolf pups squirmed in their nest, likely no more than a month old.

 

     “Puppies!” Isaac blurted. Alaine clamped a hand over his mouth.

“No wonder it was stealing livestock,” she whispered. “She’s a mama with mouths to feed! Aww, look at their little pink noses…And their teeny-tiny ears…”

“Can we keep them?”

“No, Izzy.”

“Just one? Pleeeeaaase?” the boy pleaded, but Alaine shook her head.

 

     She said, “It’s not right to separate a family. That baby would miss its mother, don’t you think? Besides, they’re wild animals. They belong in the forest, not on a chain.”

 

     Isaac’s gaze fell to the dirt.

“I guess you’re right…” he mumbled, absently picking at his boot. Then he asked, “But what’s gonna happen to them when you kill the mama? Will the daddy take care of them?”

 

     Alaine’s shoulders slumped. She let out a heavy sigh. A pensive minute passed, and then she sheathed her machete at her hip. “I’m not going to kill her,” she decided. “The villagers want her head as proof, but…I can’t. I just can’t. _Damn it_!” Her shimmery blue bangs fell over her eyes as she tipped her head forward, mumbled, “Let’s just go home. I’m passing this one to Jeimos.”

 


	5. Be Clever

##  **[LESSON 5: BE CLEVER]**

 

     “Alaine is quite right. Beasts are stupid creatures,” Jeimos told Isaac as they tromped through the woods. “Though between you and I, Alaine is a bit on the dim side herself. It’s no wonder she couldn’t handle the job.” The elf patted the trap tucked under their arm, a set of jaws like the one Isaac saw yesterday.

 

     Jeimos continued, “Muscle and violence, those things will only get you so far. But there is no problem on Gaia that a little cleverness can’t solve.”

 

     The sun was starting to fall now, casting the forest in a red glow. Isaac followed Jeimos to a small clearing not far from the wolf’s den, watched them carefully pry the jaws open and lock them in place. They fastened its chain around a tree trunk, then together they brushed a layer of dead leaves and podzol over it until it was barely visible.

 

     “We must mark the site so the villagers don’t go stepping on it,” mentioned Jeimos. They went on as they circled the area with a ring of sticks and stones, “This intelligence is what separates us peoples from the beasts, you see. The wolf won’t think twice about this unnatural display. It operates with a primitive brain, and that brain cares only for one thing…”

 

     The elf reached into the pocket of their long, black coat, pulled out a burlap sack full of stinking chum from the river.

“Yuck!” Isaac groaned, pulling the neck of his shirt over his nose when they opened the bag. Quickly the elf dumped it over the trap and then rushed away with the boy in tow.

 

     “It’s foul to us, but the beast will love it,” Jeimos told him. “Now all we have to do is wait. It should return to its young soon, but I doubt it will be able to resist a free meal first.”

 

     Isaac took one last look at the trap before they left. He turned back to Jeimos and asked, “We’re not really gonna kill her, are we?”

 

     The elf didn’t answer right away. A short silence passed before they responded with a shaky, “That sounds like a question for Mr. Atlas.”

“Evan wouldn’t want to,” the boy decided. “I mean, he didn’t kill her before.”

Jeimos cocked their head. “ _Before_? What do you mean?”

 

     And the boy explained, “Yesterday, when we took a walk and we found her caught in a trap. Evan let her go because it was the right thing to do—that’s what he said.” His gaze shifted back to the site disappearing behind them. “I thought it was dumb at first, but he was right. If we left her there she could never go back to feed her puppies. They’re just babies. They never hurt anybody.”

 

     The elf’s eyebrows arched high upon their forehead. They slapped their gloved palm against their face, dragged it down slowly as they mumbled beneath it, “So Mr. Atlas is at the heart of this? That big, silly buffoon! He must have been too embarrassed to admit it! Oh, he owes us terribly for all this trouble. Making a mess and expecting us to—”

 

     The two jumped with a start, stopped in their tracks as a high, canine yelp pierced the air. A flock of birds flitted from the canopy in that moment, then Jeimos and Isaac went bolting back towards the trap. They stopped at the edge of the clearing, saw the red wolf but she had yet to see them.

 

     She found herself victim to a trap once again, flailing and whining as she tried to dislodge her front paw. “Huh, that was fast,” said Jeimos. They clasped their hands together with satisfaction, then smiled down at Isaac. “Looks like a job well done! Come along, let’s fetch the others.”

 

     The elf turned on their heel, long coat swishing behind them as they moved swiftly down the path. Isaac began to follow. He stopped just a few paces down, twisted around to look at the wolf. Her panicked cries made his chest ache. He thought of the helpless wolf pups all alone in their den, wondering where their mother had gone.

 

     “I’ll be there in a minute! Uh…I have to pee!” Isaac called to the elf.

“Well, don’t dally too long! It’s getting dark,” replied Jeimos, and soon they turned a corner out of sight. Isaac cautiously made his way back to the clearing, rustling through the bushes and ferns.

 

     The wolf’s ears twitched. She whipped her head towards him, black eyes meeting the boy’s with ferocious intensity. He took another step forward, exposed his palms to show he meant no harm. “I won’t hurt you,” he said gently. “Do you remember me? I helped you yesterday and I can help you again. But only if you let me.”

 

     Isaac took another step. The wolf drew her ears back. He went on, “Your puppies are crying. I think they’re hungry. You gotta let me help you so you can feed them, okay?” He was approaching arm’s length now, inching forward with empty hands. Isaac watched her with wide eyes as he slowly kneeled, reaching for the trap.

 

     The wolf bared her teeth and snarled. Instantly the boy jumped back, lost his footing and tumbled on his behind. The beast could have snatched him then, could have crushed his head between her mighty jaws. Yet she did no such thing, just stood stiffly and rumbled with fear in her eyes.

 

     She let out a keening whine as pain throbbed through her paw. Isaac took a deep breath and slowly crawled forward, approached the trap once more. This time the wolf didn’t growl. She seemed to understand, planted her backside on the ground and let him fumble with the contraption.

 

     It was no different than the last. The boy pulled the release pin and the iron jaws fell loose. Immediately the beast escaped. Now it was free to tear Isaac’s flesh from his bones, kill the boy and drag him back to its den.

 

     Instead, it paid him a long, silent stare before hobbling away into the trees.

 

     Isaac sat there in the dirt, eyes wide and chest heaving. His limbs trembled like leaves in the wind. He yelped, nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a giggle from behind. He flipped around in a flail of limbs and saw none other than Flora, the daisy-haired nymph who watched over the forest.

 

     She sauntered towards him, pink lips curled into a smirk. “I knew you would,” she said. Isaac pressed a hand over his chest, willed his racing heart to settle.

“Would what?” he asked.

Flora extended a hand, helped him to his feet as she explained, “Do the right thing. It’s been a true comedy, watching this band of so-called _professionals_ chase that poor beast all over the woods.”

 

     Isaac swiped at his neck with a sigh. “They’re gonna be so mad at me,” he said.

Flora flipped her long hair back and replied, “So be it. You have a gift, Child, and it would be foolish of you not to embrace it.”

“A gift?”

“Yes,” the nymph told him, poking a long, green finger at his chest, “a gift most uncommonly for a commoner; a sense of harmony with the beasts.”

 

     Isaac furrowed his dark brows in confusion. He didn’t have to ask. Flora saw his bewilderment and gestured to the trap, said, “Surely you aren’t so blind? That wolf would have torn anyone else to shreds. You recall yesterday, when she sank her teeth into your captain’s armor…”

 

     She touched her fingertips together with a grin. “But she did no such thing to you, did she? Nor did she snatch you away yesterday, nor did the bear today. There’s something about you, Child, that eases my mind when your iron-blooded people settled into my forest.”

 

     “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Isaac admitted pitifully, scrubbing at his temples. “Are you making fun of me? ‘Cause it’s not funny I don’t like it.”

 

     Flora giggled, “You’ll understand in time. Until then, you have my blessing to walk this forest as you please. You need not fear beast nor nymph, though I cannot promise civilized behavior from your fellow peoples.”

 

     “Oh.” The boy blinked, straightened his posture. “Um, thank you. What about my friends? Will you bless them too?”

“Perhaps if they prove themselves worthy,” she said flippantly, examining her rosey-pink nails. “Keep them in line, little sprout. They have many lessons to learn from you.”

 


	6. Be United

##  **[LESSON 6: BE UNITED]**

 

     The six mercenaries headed down the trail towards the wolf’s den, guided by the warm magical light in Jeimos’ palm. The last shreds of sunlight were disappearing behind the horizon. Isaac lagged behind the group, eyed Evan’s longsword warily. They were on their way to cut off the wolf’s head, present it to the villagers and collect a chunk of gold for their efforts.

 

     But when they arrived in the clearing, all they found was an empty trap. The mercenaries stood frozen, astonished, muttering amongst themselves. Isaac stayed silent, absently rubbing his arm as his gaze stuck to his boots. Evan looked this way and that, then kneeled before the trap.

 

     He turned it over, inspected the hinges. “Perhaps it’s broken?” suggested Jeimos.

Evan shook his head, stood up and replied, “No, the pin is removed. No beast could have accomplished that without thumbs.” His eyes shifted between his crew. “This was deliberate. I believe we’ve been sabotaged.”

 

     The mercs shared glances, more mutterings all around. Isaac gnashed his teeth behind closed lips. When he dared to look up, he saw Evan’s green eyes fixated directly on him.

 

     The captain _knew_. Sliding his sword back in its scabbard, Evan let out a sigh and went on, “No matter. I created this mess, so I’ll be the one to fix it.” He waved the crew away. “You guys go on home. I’ll track the beast down and have its head by sunrise.”

 

     “Wait,” blurted Isaac. “Um, she has babies right over there. They’ll starve if we kill her!” He pointed in the direction of the den, just barely visible through the brush.

 

     Lukas planted his hands on his hips, said, “Isaac, the _villagers_ are going to starve if it keeps eating their livestock!”

“And _we’re_ gonna starve if we don’t get some gold in our pockets,” added Glenvar.

Isaac stamped his foot defiantly. “You’re not gonna kill their mama! I won’t let you!”

 

     “Alright, hold on now,” said Evan, stepping between them. “The boy has a point. What kind of ‘Good Guys’ kill innocent pups?”

“I want to get _paid_ , Evan,” Lukas grumbled.

 

     “Well, I’m with Isaac and Evan on this one,” said Alaine. She glared daggers at Glenvar and Lukas. “I can’t believe you guys! Are you really so heartless?”

“It’s _nature_ , Allie! It ain’t always pretty, that’s just how it is!” Glenvar argued.

 

     Evan raised his hand to silence them, then turned to the elf. “Jeimos?” he began. “You’re the deciding vote here. What do you think we should do?”

 

     Orange elven eyes flicked between the expectant faces of the crew. Jeimos wrung their hands and stammered, “Um, er…Well, I…”

“Don’t hurt the puppies!” urged Isaac.

Lukas crossed his arms and disagreed, “We’re in debt up to our necks, Jay! Aren’t you tired of eating bugs?”

 

     Alaine gave the archer a shove. “Don’t be cold, Jeimos! You’re a flame-thrower for gods’ sake!”

“Those villagers are gonna be real sour with us if one of their kids gets munched on. Just sayin’,” mentioned Glenvar, raising a flask to his lips.

 

     “Arrgh, stop it! I-I don’t know! I can’t take the pressure!” the elf warbled, raking their fingers over their braids. Finally they decided, “Okay, okay. Fine. I side with Lukas and Glenvar, if only so the votes are even!” Displeased groans and chatter swelled through the crew until Evan silenced them once more.

 

     “Enough!” he barked. “So we’re at a stalemate. We’ll just have to reach a compromise then.”

“And how do you suppose we accomplish that?” Lukas queried doubtfully. A long, uncomfortable silence passed.

“I think know how,” said Isaac. “But we can’t do it apart. We all have to work together.”

 

*

 

     That night, the mercenaries practiced goodness when they decided they wouldn’t harm the wolf.

 

     They practiced patience as they set a new cage-trap and waited until sunrise, when the wolf finally became ensnared.

 

     They practiced fearlessness as they gathered the pups and put them in the cage with their mother, suffering only a few bites and scrapes.

 

     They practiced persistence as they slowly transported the cage of weighty, snapping animals all the way back to Drifter’s Hollow.

 

     Finally, they practiced cleverness when they presented the beast’s head to the villagers.

 

     “Surely you’re joking? It is still alive!” exclaimed Olof, a bearded centaur with long ashen hair. His pale torso was bare and muscled, equine body colored brown. He and several other villagers gathered around the cage, where the red wolf and her pups snarled back at them.

 

     “It says right here in the contract,” began Evan, plucking a scrap of paper from his pocket. “ _’Present the red wolf’s head to Drifter’s Hollow in exchange for 600GP._ ’ It says nothing about being dead or alive.” With that, he offered a weary grin as his crew stood silent behind him.

 

     Ginger snatched the contract from him and read it over twice more, trying desperately to find a loophole. Two young boys kneeled before the cage, a red-headed satyr and a portly chestnut-haired centaur. The mother wolf rumbled at them from behind the wooden bars, but her puppies wanted only to play and play.

 

     “Frederick!” warned Olof, dragging his son away from the cage by his tail. “Do not get so close!”

The young centaur groaned, “Aww, Dad, they’re just babies! Look how cute they are!”

His father shook his head. “They are cute now, but in a season they will be just as eager to rip you apart as their mother!”

 

     Ginger turned to Evan and said, “Olof’s right. We can’t accept this beast alive, it’s just too dangerous. We have to be sure they will never cross our village again before you see your gold.”

Evan frowned. “That was not part of the contract,” he said.

The satyress sighed as she gathered her son in her arms. “I know, Mr. Atlas, but—”

 

     “Woah, woah, Squeaker! What are ya doin’?” Glenvar suddenly blurted. The villagers shrieked and ran, mercenaries drawing their weapons as Isaac opened the cage. The pups went bounding out first, bouncing playfully around the boy’s feet. Then came their mother, limping along on her injured paws.

 

     She circled closely around Isaac, brushing her shaggy fur against him. Shielding him from the mercenaries, she regarded them all with a sharp glare.

“Isaac, get away from that beast! Now!” Evan shouted, longsword in a white-knuckled grip.

Isaac wrapped his arms around her neck and told them, “It’s okay, she won’t hurt me! Flora said so.”

 

     The villagers stood several paces away, a dozen of them at least. They exchanged looks of bewilderment and so too did the mercenaries. “Flora? That nosy flower nymph? I don’t like this, Boy,” Evan told him warily. “Not one bit. You’d better explain yourself this instant!”

 

     Untying the brand new rope around his waist, Isaac fashioned a loop and secured it over the wolf’s head. He began leading her out of town on her makeshift leash as the three pups followed in a bouncing, yapping train. He said, “Flora said I have a gift. It means the animals like me, I think.”

     The mercenaries parted, gave the animal a wide berth as Isaac walked her between them. He went on, “I’m gonna use the gift to take Mama Wolf away from the village, where she’ll be safe. And the puppies too.” He turned and patted the beast’s head, cooed to her, “Don’t worry, I’ll find you a nice place to live. Maybe a big cave! Oh, but we have to make sure there’s no bears first…”

 

     Evan’s eyes shifted to his crew, looking just as puzzled as he did. Then he turned to the villagers who were waiting anxiously for answers. “Er, I guess we’re relocating the animals then,” he called to them. “Fair enough?”

 

     After a minute or two of deliberation with her peers, Ginger stepped forward and replied, “Take them at least as far as Woodborne. Bring a souvenir back as proof, and then you’ll have your gold.” She extended a pale, freckled hand and Evan grasped it in a firm shake.

 

     “You have yourself a deal.”

 

*

 

     The Freelance Good Guys spent all day following the river to Woodborne, a town under Folkvar Kingdom’s rule to the east. It was the nearest piece of civilization to Drifter’s Hollow. A somewhat poor and backwater place, but the town itself mattered not. What really mattered was the untamed, scenic wilderness surrounding it.

 

     The wolf walked along on her lead, stopping to drink from the river as the mercenaries did. She took food straight from Isaac’s hand. But when the others tried to feed her, she snapped viciously at their fingers. “That’s ‘cause you guys don’t have the gift,” Isaac told them proudly. “Only me!”

 

     The pups were still too young to know friend from foe. Alaine squealed and cooed at them as she hugged them close, stroked their velvety ears and kissed their pink noses. It was all fun and games until one snapped its jaws, tiny fang piercing straight through her nostril.

 

     “Ow, ow, ow! The little brat, it bit me!” She howled, and when she yanked the pup away the others could see blood trickling down her face.

 

     Lukas rolled his eyes and mumbled, “That’s what you get. I told you not to touch them.”

“But they’re such fuzzy, sweet little babies!”

“It just _pierced_ your _nose_ , Alaine!”

 

     The mermaid pinched the pup’s maw between her fingers, holding it shut as she planted kisses all over its head. “Who’s a little face-eater? You are, puppy, yes you are…!” she mewled.

“Uh-oh, the rabies is takin’ hold,” snickered Glenvar.

 

     Leading the troop, Evan walked ahead with the second wolf pup in his arms. The third was asleep in the pocket of Jeimos’ long coat. They walked along a winding uphill path, looking down on the mossy shingles of Woodborne to their right. To the left was a forest of towering conifers and a rocky stream.

 

     Jeimos suddenly stopped, let out a groan as they fished the baby wolf from their pocket. Evan turned and queried, “Everything alright?”

“No! Not by any means!” the elf exclaimed. They held the sleepy pup out at arm’s length as they tugged at their coat. “The beast made a mess of my favorite coat and—uuugh, it’s soaking through! Lukas, take the little pest!”

 

     The archer backed away as the elf approached. “Oh no, no, no, I don’t want—” But it was too late. An instant later the pup was shoved into his arms and he had no choice but to awkwardly hold it, leaving it to dangle by the scruff of its neck. Its pink tongue stuck out ever so slightly, still fast asleep regardless.

 

     “Jay, I don’t want it! It smells like piss!” Lukas complained.

The elf whirled around and walked on, told him, “Yes, well, so does my coat!”

“We’re almost there, guys,” Evan assured them. “We’ll turn them loose at the top of the hill, then we’ll head down to Woodborne for drinks, grab a souvenir, and finally go home with a job well done.”

 

     Glenvar huffed and puffed behind him as they ascended the last stretch. “Drinks, you say? I’ll be damned, that almost makes this all worth it! My knees are screamin’, Chief!”

“I’m sorry. Just a little further,” Evan told him, gently scratching the little wolf in his arms. “I want to be sure they have a good home. They’ve been through a lot today, after all.”

 

     “ _They’ve_ been through a lot?” Lukas blurted. The pup suddenly began whimpering and wriggling in his grip. The archer sighed, tucked his arm beneath it and held it to his chest. Soon after, the creature settled and fell asleep with its nose pressed to his leather chestplate.

 

     The mercenaries rounded another corner and found themselves in the shadow of the forest canopy. A three-tiered waterfall lie ahead, choked with ferns and flowers. The babbling stream provided percussion to the birds’ songs high above. This was a forest of old growth, mighty trunks that stood here for centuries or perhaps even millennia.

 

     Some stood no more, however, as they’d grown too old and weak until they finally toppled over. Two great, rotting trunks lie over the waterfall like an archway, mossy tendrils hanging down like green icicles. It was so scenic here, Evan had half a mind to set up camp himself.

 

     Instead, he turned to Isaac and shot him a simple nod. He didn’t have to say it, they could all see that this was the finest home their lupine friends could ask for. Isaac cautiously slipped the rope off the wolf’s neck. They half-expected her to run away or maul someone, but there she stood patiently.

 

     Evan set a pup before her, Alaine kissing the other one last time before she did the same. They awaited Lukas now, watching as he stood there and stared down at the pup in his arms.

“Go on, Lukas,” Evan urged him. The mother wolf sniffed at her other two pups and licked their faces.

 

     The archer’s lips pressed together tightly, glancing up at his captain as he whispered, “But…It’s asleep. Listen, it’s _snoring_.”

“Ha-ha, Luke has feel-ings!” Glenvar sing-songed.

“Shut your mouth! I do not!” Lukas exclaimed. With that he quickly left the pup beside its mother, brushed his gloved hands of it as if it were slime.

 

     “Let’s get moving. I need a damn drink,” he grumbled, storming off back down the hill. Isaac gave the mother wolf one last hug before saying goodbye. She licked his forehead, then she and her puppies went bounding off into the brush. The boy sighed, gaze downcast and sullen as he fed the rope back through his belt loops.

 

     Evan clamped a hand on his shoulder and smiled. He said, “I’m proud of you, Isaac. Sometimes I wonder if you’re listening at all, but I suppose you really have taken our teachings to heart. Well done.” Isaac flashed a smile back, though the loss of his animal friend quickly stole it from his face once more.

 

     “Yep,” Glenvar grunted, “they’re Woodborne’s problem now!”

“Glenvar, really!” Evan scolded, shaking his head as he made his way back down the path.

 

     He turned to Isaac, walking silent and sullen to his left and went on, “They’ll be happy here, I know it. And Drifter’s Hollow will certainly be happier without them. Now, uh….About this _gift_ of yours…”

 

     “Boy’s a freak of nature!” Lukas called from several paces ahead. “ _Cursed_ , I’m telling you!”

“Sounds more like a blessing than a curse to me,” mentioned Alaine.

Isaac just shrugged. “I don’t know anything about it,” he admitted. “Except what Flora told me, and she said I have ‘ _harmony with beasts_ ’. What’s that mean?”

 

     Evan tilted his head back, looked up at the rolling white clouds. “I really couldn’t tell you, Isaac. But from what I’ve seen today, I’d wager you may have a magical curse upon you; something like Alaine’s mermaid curse.”

 

     “Yeah, or yer lycanthroooh—” Glenvar began, biting his tongue the moment his captain’s glare whipped towards him. “—uuuuhhh, heh, nevermind…”

 

*

 

     The sun was just beginning to set by the time the mercenaries returned to Drifter’s Hollow. Isaac carried a little wood carving in his pocket. It was a Folkvar war ship upon a pedestal, the kind of good luck charm that drunken sailors would buy on a whim. “WOODBORNE” was etched into its base.

 

     The trinket was proof enough for the villagers, who pooled their gold together and finally paid the Freelance Good Guys for their trouble. The village children were free to play outside once more. Ginger’s son Tomato followed her all over the woods as she foraged while Frederick helped Olof haul stones to the construction site.

 

     The mercenaries rejoiced with more alcohol around their campfire. Soon it would be dark and the laborers would go home. But before then, Isaac had just one question for Olof. The centaur walked back into the site with two bags hanging off his equine body. Each one was stuffed with heavy stones.

 

     He dumped them in a pile, from which a burly satyr named Brogan took them and stacked them onto the building’s foundation. Frederick came up behind his father, holding a single river rock in his hands. He placed it in the pile with a satisfied grin. Just as Olof turned to gather another load, Isaac called from the campfire, “Olof, wait! I have a question!”

 

     The centaur stopped and turned. His hooves _clump-clump-clumped_ over the dirt as he meandered to the boy. “I am listening,” he said. Jeimos eyed the two with a drink half-raised to their lips.

Then Isaac did just as they feared, asked, “Do baby centaurs get milk from the person part or the horse part?” and the elf slapped their palm over their blushing face.

 

     “Isaac!” they scolded, but Olof didn’t even twitch.

He answered nonchalantly, “Both, actually. But if you ask me, milk from the top half tastes better.”

Isaac nodded. “Oooh, okay. Thanks!”

 

     The centaur smiled, tipped his head in a polite nod before plodding back down the trail. Frederick galloped along behind him, clutching his father’s braided tail.

 

     Glenvar skewered a slab of venison on a stick as he addressed his captain, asked, “So, Chief, think anyone in Woodborne might need some muscle?”

 

     “As a matter of fact…” Evan began, pulling a strip of paper from his back pocket. “I snatched this from the tavern bulletin on the way out. Says _‘strong guard needed for one-way caravan trip, Woodborne to Redbarrow Falls’_.” He folded the paper, eyes shifting between his crew.

 

     “There’s a 300GP reward. How many of you feel like passing the buck now?” He smirked.

“I’ll take it,” Lukas offered quickly. “I have nothing better to do but sit around here and drink…”

Glenvar nudged the archer and barked, “They need a _strong_ guard, ya twiggy worm! Pick me, Chief!”

“You really think you can hike that far?” Alaine chuckled. “You’d keel over in ten paces! I got this one, Atty.”

 

     Jeimos quirked an eyebrow at the mermaid, regarded her doubtfully when they said, “If you’re so easily manipulated by a wolf pup, those gold-pinching shrews will turn your pockets inside-out. I think someone of sharper wit should go. Someone, perhaps, like me!”

 

     Evan raised his hands, silenced the group before he told them, “I know you’re all more than qualified. So, why don’t we head to Woodborne _together_ first thing in the morning, and we’ll let the client choose. Fair enough?”

“Aww, you just don’t wanna get caught playin’ favorites,” said Glenvar. He winked and whispered, “It’s okay. I know it’s me.”

 

     After their first full dinner in weeks, the mercenaries retired to their tents for the night. Tomorrow they would begin clawing their way out of debt and towards a better future. Should they succeed, gone were the days of eating mushroom gruel, sleeping in the elements, and desperately hustling for drinks at every tavern they crossed.

 

     Isaac settled into his bedroll and stared up into blackness. One day he would be taking contracts with the crew. He vowed that he would always be good, be patient, be fearless, be persistent, and be clever just as they taught him.

 

     His mother was gone without a trace, and so this motley crew was the only family he had now. Their headquarters was growing taller by the day and it was clear that this was to be his home for a very long time—perhaps his entire life.

 

     Isaac promised himself that he would never turn his back on this family of his no matter what, for they were miserable apart. Surely they would crumble if he did not teach them to be united.

 

 

**END**


End file.
